


Quite a Prize

by FailureBot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Slavery, Zygerria Arc (Star Wars: Clone Wars)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:35:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29954877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailureBot/pseuds/FailureBot
Summary: “No offense Master, but would a slaver like Lars Quell really present an old man as a prized slave to the Queen of Zygerria? If she doesn’t immediately realize it’s a ruse, she’ll laugh us out of her court.”Obi-Wan plays the slave in Ahsoka's place.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 33
Kudos: 137





	1. Quite a Prize

**Author's Note:**

> Shakespeare wrote King Lear during quarantine, and I wrote this.

As Anakin ripped off the long cloak with a flourish, revealing to the Queen the slave he had stolen from Bruno Denturri’s palace and brought triumphantly before her, Obi-Wan watched the surprise in the Queen’s eyes turn to curiosity, interest. It was what he had hoped for, despite Anakin’s misgivings. “No offense Master, but would a slaver like Lars Quell really present an old man as a prized slave to the Queen of Zygerria? If she doesn’t immediately realize it’s a ruse, she’ll laugh us out of her court.”

Ahsoka was the more likely candidate – she was young and beautiful, perfect to act the part of a palace slave. But Obi-Wan wouldn’t hear of it. They didn’t know what these slavers were like, what could happen to Ahsoka if she were ever out of Anakin’s sight. Though the war had exposed their padawan to many experiences she would never have been asked to face during peace time, this was a bridge too far. Obi-Wan refused to risk it.

And of course asking Anakin to play a slave was out of the question. So that left Obi-Wan.

He’d been through worse.

At least the Queen wasn’t laughing, as Anakin had predicted. He remembered a moment later to cast his eyes downward in deference – an older slave would have had all defiance beaten out of him and wouldn’t dare meet a master’s gaze. He could feel Anakin tense imperceptibly beside him, preparing for the plan to go sideways.

“You impress me, Lars Quell. He is quite a prize.”

Anakin’s shock was palpable in the force. Obi-Wan decided not to be offended.

Obi-Wan could see the others kneel as the Queen rose from her throne, and knelt as well. “And to have defeated Bruno Denturri in combat, you must be quite the warrior.”

It was working, they were past the first test. Now all they had to do was keep up the ruse until they could find out where she was keeping the colonists. Obi-Wan hoped Ahsoka and Rex’s search of the city would be fruitful – the more time passed, the more likely the colonists would be sold and shipped out to force knew where, impossible to recover.

“Rise.” Obi-Wan stood, keeping his eyes down. He could feel the Queen’s gaze rake over him and hoped the outfit they’d chosen, a close-fitting tunic and pants, would be pleasing enough. Anakin had balked at anything more revealing.

“He is in excellent condition, fine stock. Older than what I would usually purchase…”

Anakin began to reply, “If he is not to your liking, your majesty--” but was cut off when the Queen added, “But that is outweighed by his beauty. What soft eyes, and fine features. I see you are a man of good taste, Lars.”

To his credit, Anakin recovered quickly. “I knew from your reputation that you would appreciate quality, your majesty.”

The Queen trailed the back of her fingers over Obi-Wan’s cheek, down his neck. “Is he a pleasure slave or a servant?”

“Servant,” said Anakin in an only slightly strangled voice.

“We’ll have to do something about the beard.”

“I thought it suited him, your majesty.”

The Queen hummed, glancing back and forth between Anakin and Obi-Wan, considering, then returned to flirting outrageously with Lars Quell.

Obi-Wan now felt vindicated in not allowing Ahsoka to act this part. He nudged Anakin slightly in the force as a kind of I-told-you-so, but received no response. Anakin was purposely shielding his thoughts. He supposed the younger man hadn’t really prepared himself to see his old master in that light – Anakin could be remarkably prudish sometimes.

Anakin bent to whisper in the Queen’s ear while she laughed, delighted. He followed closely behind when the whole party left to stroll along the promenade. When he passed Atai, the prime minister, his lips curled at Obi-Wan in a kind of pleased grimace, just short of leering. He looked determinedly at the ground – no need to encourage that kind of attention.

The death of the Twilek girl shook Anakin and Obi-Wan both, but Anakin played his part admirably, offering Obi-Wan as a replacement in the Queen’s staff. She graciously accepted, invited them to a slave auction. Which was apparently what passed for entertainment on this planet.

There were no togrutas at the auction. Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s frustration pooling around him as he asked the Queen where one might keep a large quantity of slaves. “All in due time,” she said.

Time was something they didn’t have.

That evening, Anakin kept his mind shielded even as a guard led Obi-Wan away to the slave’s quarters. Obi-Wan nudged him goodbye anyway. He didn’t know why his old padawan was so closed off. Earlier he had seemed so eager to pull the wool over a slaver’s eyes, to finally get the opportunity to free others from slavery as he’d dreamed of since he was a boy. It was why Obi-Wan had been willing to do whatever was necessary to make the plan work, not only for the colonists but for Anakin, to help him heal from the deep wounds inflicted on him by his enslavement. Something had changed since they stepped into the Queen’s throne room, but what? Anakin had become so much more difficult to read since the war began.

Obi-Wan wasn’t given long to ponder his friend’s silence as he entered the slave’s quarters and submitted to one of the harshest scrubbings he’d ever received, administered by two droids in a dark room that he was sure would feature in nightmares for many years to come. Cleaned, buffed and wrapped in a fresh Zygerrian tunic, he was led by Atai to the Queen’s chambers, his grip tight on Obi-Wan’s arm, his face close beside Obi-Wan’s in the turbolift so that his breath ruffled his auburn fringe.

The Queen’s quarters were softly lit for an evening ambiance, the room warm and almost welcoming. She reclined on a chaise lounge with a light meal laid before her, sipping wine while a slave polished her claws. Her golden irises, floating in the inky black pools of her eyes, appraised Obi-Wan.

“I don’t usually like the red-haired ones. The colour is pleasing, but they are often too pink-skinned. You are different, more golden.” She waved the slave away and ate a piece of fruit. It wasn’t a fruit that Obi-Wan was familiar with, a green peel with deep red flesh.

The Queen nodded to her slave, who stepped forward and began to tug at the closures of Obi-Wan’s tunic. Obi-Wan’s shock overtook him for a moment, and suddenly the tunic was gone. The air of the room now felt cold on his skin.

“Yes, a soft gold. Is that what he likes about you?” She stood and glided forward, touched his bare skin. Obi-Wan inhaled sharply but allowed it to happen. There was only the colonists – that was all that mattered.

“I asked you a question, slave.”

Focus.

“I beg your pardon, your majesty.”

“Your former master, Lars. Do you think me blind? I see how he looks at you, like you belong to him still. You are special to him. Why did he give you to me?”

Obi-Wan improvised, “My Master wished to give you a great gift as a sign of his friendship. It is a greater gift to offer a favoured slave than an unfavoured one.”

She seemed to consider this, her eyes roaming his shoulders, chest, drifting down his stomach. “You are well-spoken and handsome, but you are old for a pleasure slave.” Her clawed finger traced one of his uglier scars. “And damaged.” She nodded to her slave again, and Obi-Wan felt a tugging at the fastening of his pants. He was made to step out of his shoes, pants and underclothes. He pushed down his mortification and kept his breathing calm. He didn’t sense any sexual attraction behind her appraisal – her interest was merely aesthetic. She poked and prodded, seeing which parts were firm or soft. Obi-Wan felt rather like an animal at auction. He resolved in that moment never to tell Anakin what had transpired in this room.

“You are passable. I have seen much better. Are you skilled in the art of pleasure? Or is his attachment to you more… sentimental?”

“I could not say, your majesty. I was in my Master’s service only a brief time.”

The Queen’s lip curled, sensing a lie. Obi-Wan scrambled to recover.

“I am only a slave and would not presume to know my Master’s mind, but I do believe I remind him of someone he knew once.”

The Queen’s eyes softened. “Ah, a lost love. That makes sense, of course.” She paused, thoughtful, before returning to her chaise-lounge. She tapped her communicator, and Anakin’s voice filled in room moments later. “Your Majesty, I had not expected to hear your lovely voice again so soon after we parted.”

Laying it on thick, Anakin.

The Queen didn’t seem to mind. “I wanted to arrange another promenade for tomorrow. I’d like to show you our new holding facilities – I’m sure you will be impressed by the fine stock we have there.”

“I look forward to it, your majesty.”

The conversation went on for a few more minutes. Obi-Wan, shivering naked only a few feet away, was just glad it wasn’t a holocall.

When it ended, the Queen suddenly remembered he was there. She waved him away.

He was still refastening his clothes when he was ushered out into the hall. Atai, waiting outside, smirked at him and grabbed his arm before he could quite close the front of his tunic. “The Queen seems taken with her new toy,” he sneered, “And it’s clear Quell hasn’t got his fill of you yet, the way he stares. But they will tire of you eventually, and then it will be my turn.” He seemed to enjoy half-dragging Obi-Wan back to the slave quarters, and nearly threw him onto the floor. “Sleep well, little skug,” he leered, and snapped the door shut.

It was clear Atai would have to be avoided for the rest of the mission.

Just as Obi-Wan was laying down to rest with the other palace slaves, he felt a nudge in his mind. Anakin. It was tentative, slightly apologetic, and sweet, as Anakin could be when he was feeling regretful about his behaviour. Obi-Wan nudged back reassuringly, and Anakin’s mind curled against him in the force like a puppy. It must be the strangeness of the day that was causing him to act this way – he hadn’t been so affectionate in years.

The room was full of the breathing of enslaved people all around him. Obi-Wan used the calming techniques he’d learned so long ago in the creche, tensing and relaxing his muscles one at a time until his whole body felt heavy. Perhaps when they surveyed the holding facilities tomorrow, the Queen would let something slip, some clue to the location of the colonists. Perhaps Rex and Ahsoka would find something. He hoped they made progress soon. He didn’t want to be a slave for too long.

It took a long time to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is loosely inspired by Selcier’s thoughtful and emotional one-shot, Let me take this. If you like alternate Zygerria arcs, I encourage you to check that out here: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/11472432>. As you can tell, my fic is decidedly less soft, and slightly creepier. Sorry. Unless that’s your thing? Maybe?  
> Constructive and/or nice comments appreciated. I am lonely.


	2. Sentimental

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin has trouble maintaining the ruse.

The Queen revealed little in their survey of the holding facilities, and Obi-Wan was obliged to trail behind them for well over two hours while Anakin flirted with her and gave her his most smoldering glances. Obi-Wan tried to take in as much as possible of the facilities without seeming to – it was frowned upon for a slave to be overly observant, and Atai watched him always, his gaze hungry.

At one point, Ahsoka darted out between two buildings and gave a sign that meant they hadn’t found anything yet. Obi-Wan could feel Anakin’s impatience in the force and out of habit reached out to soothe his mind. _Patience._ The younger man’s profile turned toward him briefly in acknowledgement, but even this small gesture did not escape the notice of the Queen. She glanced back at Obi-Wan and then to Anakin, her eyes narrowed.

When they returned to the palace Obi-Wan was tasked with serving drinks. He wove through small clusters of palace officials, catching snippets of conversation but nothing useful. He wondered idly if any of these Zygerrians considered how often slaves were privy to their conversations, or if they were so invested in their belief that enslaved people were mere commodities to be traded that they believed they could not hear or understand what they were saying.

Later, he brought drinks to the promenade where Anakin sat with the Queen looking over the city. He leaned over Anakin to offer him a Telosian Sunrise on a tray, and though the younger man took the drink without looking at him, he could feel his amusement in the force. So, he thought it was funny to see his old master reduced to slinging cocktails? Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and retreated to stand by the edge of balcony, as far away from Atai as possible. The prime minister’s face hid little of his thoughts. Anakin seemed to sense whatever dark fantasies Atai was entertaining and looked sharply at the man.

“Your slave is settling in nicely with my household, Lars.”

Anakin tore his gaze away from Atai to nod at the Queen. “I knew he would be a perfect fit for you, your majesty.”

“I must say, I had my doubts when I examined him last night.”

Obi-Wan did not freeze. He had been hoping she wouldn’t mention that. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Anakin’s mech hand tighten around his glass.

“Oh?”

“He has many ugly scars, but he does speak prettily, and serves so dutifully. I believe I too will keep him as a servant, he is no longer suited to a harem. Of course a brute like Denturri would not know how to maintain a pleasure slave, such a shame when good stock is spoiled like that.”

Anakin smiled warmly at her. It would not be obvious to anyone who didn’t know him well, but Obi-Wan could see that Anakin was making a conscious effort to control his anger. “I agree,” he said. “You can rest assured, your majesty, that I have never been guilty of neglecting beautiful creatures.”

Miraj preened, clearly pleased with Anakin’s response. But it seemed she still could not let it go. She played with the green and red fruit on the edge of her glass, weighing her next words. “I wonder that you will not be sad to lose him. He is such fine quality.”

Anakin smiled his most charming smile. “How could I keep such a slave for myself, when he could grace your fine halls?”

She laughed, slapping his knee playfully. “But no, Lars. You must tell me. I sense this male is special to you. Perhaps his face reminds you of someone, someone from your past?”

Obi-Wan pressed strongly on Anakin’s mind, urging him to play along, praying he would pick up on the game.

“Perhaps,” said Anakin, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. “When I was there in Denturri’s palace, something in this slave’s face reminded me of an old mentor of mine. A man who took me under his wing and taught me everything I know. You only encounter a few people like that in life, who are instrumental in making you who you are. I guess I felt sentimental when I picked him out. He means nothing more to me than that.”

Miraj seemed satisfied, enthralled by his story. “Was he a slaver too, this mentor of yours?”

“He was. A devious bastard, and stubborn as a bantha.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes internally.

They soon left the promenade as the Queen’s business would take her away from social activities for the rest of the afternoon. Anakin was invited to dinner in her private dining room.

She took his arm as they strolled back inside the palace, and asked, “Lars, what happened to your old mentor?”

Anakin smiled brilliantly. “I killed him.”

* * *

It was a surprise to be brought to the Queen’s chambers again that night. He’d thought it a one-time event, but he found himself standing in the same spot, the Queen sipping her wine and fixing him with her gold-black eyes. “You served me well today. I believe you will be useful in my household. Your demeanor is so submissive and docile. It’s clear to me that wherever you came from before Bruno Denturri’s palace, you were well processed. An obedient slave need never fear his master’s whip.”

“I am glad that this slave pleases your majesty,” Obi-Wan said softly, his face lowered.

She considered him again before launching into what Obi-Wan sensed was her true object in bringing him here. “What did Lars tell you of this mentor of his?”

This again. “Nothing, your majesty, save that I resembled him.”

“Hmm…” she said, stroking her gold necklace in thought. “Were they lovers?”

Obi-Wan choked, “I don’t believe so, majesty.”

“But they must have been.” She came close to him, as if examining his face for clues. “Come now, you don’t seem that dim to me. Surely you notice that his eyes search for you always. He cannot be easy without knowing where you are.”

Obi-Wan sighed internally. Ahsoka told him that he had a particular way of saying his former padawan’s name whenever he did something particularly emotional or reckless. It had a long-suffering, hopeless quality to it, and was usually followed by Obi-Wan covering his face in his hands. “Master Kenobi,” Ahsoka would whisper to him after Anakin had finished a debriefing on one of his riskier plans, “you look like you’re about to _Anakin._ ” 

If he had been free to do so, Obi-Wan would have _Anakin’d_ in that moment. The man had always been overprotective of his friends. He prayed they could get to the end of this mission without Anakin blowing their cover.

Hoping to bring an end to this line of questioning, Obi-Wan adopted a clueless look that only made Miraj narrow her eyes at him.

“Don’t play the simpleton with me, slave,” she hissed, and her expression turned calculating. “You have a very pretty face, surely you know this.”

“I am glad my face pleases you, highness.”

She laughed humourlessly. “Your face draws attention that he doesn’t like. Do you know how he looks at anyone whose eyes wander your way?”

She leaned close so that her breath brushed his cheek.

“As if his gaze could crush their skulls. As if he wanted them all to burn.”

_Anakin._

“Nothing to say?”

“I believe you may be mistaken, highness.” He felt the slap coming in the force before it landed, but it didn’t hurt any less. Obi-Wan fell to his knees and kept his head down, hoping his submission would put a stop to any further blows.

“How dare you! It is not your place to tell your master she is wrong. I should send you for further processing.”

“Forgive me, master. I know nothing.”

Miraj paced the room, glaring at him. “I was a fool to believe you could offer me some insight into his heart. For all his attentions to you, skug, you are clearly too stupid to understand your master’s thoughts and desires. I am surprised Lars would find a being of such low intelligence appealing. You are of no use to me.” He was summarily dismissed from the room and shoved all the way back to his sad little bedroll in the slaves’ quarters.

He’d thought that the end to his night, but Anakin was pushing thoughts hard at Obi-Wan in the force. _Now_ , followed by an image of an alcove they had passed earlier in the day, an ideal spot for a clandestine meeting. Obi-Wan sighed. It was risky to meet, but he’d get no sleep with Anakin pestering him like that.

Using the force, it was simple work to unlock the door. Obi-Wan had always been good at sneaking, only throwing a few force suggestions at guards he came across. No one was the wiser as he made it to the alcove, finding Anakin standing there, his face in darkness.

“What was so important?”

“This is going nowhere. We should leave and join Ahsoka.”

“Leave now, why? This whole operation was your idea, you were so eager before.”

“She’s not giving us anything. You’ve been in a kriffing collar for 2 days, and we’ve got exactly nothing to show for it. This isn’t worth it.”

“Of course it’s worth it, it’s for the colonists. Thousands of people, Anakin! We’ve only just begun, and you’ve worked hard to gain her trust.”

“I’m tired of sweettalking a slaver for less than a wisp of intel. I should just get my lightsaber, then we’d be getting somewhere.” Anakin’s presence in the force soured, like it did when he felt ill. “I hate the way Atai looks at you. And the way they talk about you…”

“You knew what it would be like before we arrived. Just be glad it isn’t Ahsoka in my place.”

His friend nodded ruefully, then fixed him with an unhappy look. “The Queen said she examined you. What does that mean?”

Obi-Wan sighed, “It means what she said. I assure you it was quite impersonal.”

“Did she do anything?”

“I can’t possibly answer such a vague question.”

Anakin turned his eyes to the ground, and it seemed like it pained him to ask, “Did she… touch you?”

“She hasn’t done anything I can’t handle.”

“That means yes.”

“Did I say that?”

“If she hadn’t, you would just say so. You only parse words when you’re trying to lie. Obi-Wan, don’t let her do that to you.”

“She has no real interest in me, Anakin – all she cares about is finding out more about you. And it would have endangered the mission to blow my cover. What would really help is for you to stop worrying about me.”

“Why?”

“Your concern for my wellbeing has been noticed,” Obi-Wan said, raising his eyebrows. “The Queen believes you are preoccupied with me.”

Anakin shook his head, uncomprehending. “Preoccupied?”

“She seems to think you have a sexual interest in me.”

Anakin’s embarrassment could be felt through the force. “Oh. Is that why you made up that story?”

“Yes, well done filling in the details, that was quick thinking. Of course, it would have been more believable if you didn’t stare daggers at anyone who approached me. I don’t think she really bought it. Try to ignore me for the next few days, that should help quell her suspicions.”

Anakin glowered at him as if he was about to object, then his eyes widened suddenly, catching on the red mark on the side of Obi-Wan’s face. He looked away, trying to hide it, but Anakin grabbed his chin and held his face up to the dim moonlight. “Did she hit you?”

Pulling his chin away, Obi-Wan tried to joke, “You know how your old master’s mouth runs away with him, sometimes.”

“I’ll kill her myself.”

“Anakin!”

The younger man looked down, unable to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze, his jaw clenched. He moved closer, hissing, “I hate seeing you treated like this, it’s not right. We never planned for it to go on this long.” Anakin reached out to take his wrist. His hand felt hot on Obi-Wan’s skin, even through the fabric of his sleeve. “We’ll find another way. Please don’t go back,” Anakin said, finally gaining the courage to look Obi-Wan in the eye. His friend’s gaze was open as it so rarely was, vulnerable and pleading. “Let’s leave now.”

Sometimes Obi-Wan wondered how many times his heart would crack before it was well and truly broken beyond repair. He looked back at his friend and said, “I will do what I must, Anakin, just as you will.” He made himself watch as a little more of the light went out of Anakin’s eyes. Those eyes had been so bright before the war. How had they arrived here, in this place?

The younger man stared at him hard, then nodded. He let go of Obi-Wan, and his wrist felt cold where he’d touched.

“Get her to talk more about the processing facilities tomorrow. If that’s where new slaves are sent, that might be where the colonists are being kept.”

“Yeah, got it. No problem.”

“I’ll see you again in the morning,” He turned to leave.

His friend whispered softly, “Obi-Wan…”

He looked back. Anakin’s expression was both unsure and determined. He grabbed Obi-Wan by the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together. Obi-Wan relaxed into the hold, their breath mingling in the night air. “May the force be with you, Master.”

“And with you, my friend.”

They stood together for a few more moments before Obi-Wan pulled away. The duo left the alcove one at a time. Obi-Wan returned to the slave quarters but once again sleep eluded him.

* * *

Obi-Wan was unused to being decorative. For days, the Queen had him attend her almost constantly, fetching her food and drink, holding a large fern for shade, and often just standing behind her in his palace slave tunic, looking blankly ahead. He had never felt more useless.

He caught only snippets of information regarding the missing colonists – they were definitely in a processing facility somewhere, but the exact location had yet to reveal itself. Anakin had finally gained access to an operational centre and was hoping to have an answer that evening. It couldn’t come soon enough.

Anakin now requested a secret rendezvous every night. Obi-Wan usually refused him, and Anakin would spend the rest of the evening grumbling in the corner of his mind. He could tell his friend was worried and he wanted to help, but there were only so many times they could risk meeting – if they were caught all of this would have been for nothing. Obi-Wan would be damned if his time spent waving palm fronds would be wasted.

And the more often they met, the more he had to conceal. His evening summons to the Queen’s chambers were now a regular occurrence – he would serve her the green and red fruit on a tray while her chamber slave helped her ready for bed. Sometimes she would invite Atai to meet on state busines. It seemed she’d picked up on her prime minister’s interest in her new slave, and she took great pleasure in making Obi-Wan stand by shirtless and on display while Atai looked upon what he could not have.

Other nights she would simply observe him from her chaise lounge and ask him endless questions about Anakin. Despite Obi-Wan’s warning, Anakin could not manage to disguise his concern for his master, and his seeming fixation continued to arouse her suspicion and resentment, much to Obi-Wan’s dismay. Her questions increased in frequency and detail, at times curious, jealous, possessive, or all three at once.

This evening he stood at her pleasure, shirtless once again. The Queen seemed to be in a whimsical mood: she was amusing herself by adorning Obi-Wan with her jewellery.

“What kind of females does he like?” she asked, draping her heavy golden shoulder necklace across his collarbones.

Obi-Wan thought of Senator Amidala. “Intelligent, capable, powerful.”

She added her Zygerrian circlet set with rubies on top of his hair and stepped back to survey her handiwork. He could feel the weight of the ear plates arching above his head, making him look almost Zygerrian. “He must have women hanging off him constantly, of course,” she said slyly.

“I certainly wouldn’t say so.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. Too snippy. He looked down, bracing for a blow.

None came. She circled behind him before asking, “And what kind of males?”

“I beg your pardon, your majesty?”

Her hands gripped his shoulders and slipped slowly down. “The male form. What does he like, slender, soft or muscular? Hairless or…” her fingers brushed his beard, “furry, like this?”

Obi-Wan stuttered, “I couldn’t say, your grace.”

“Hmm…”

Next she bade him remove the rest of his clothes and wait while she strolled to her closet to complete the outfit. She chose a kind of sheer sarong with a draped gold belt, settling it low on his hips.

As a finishing touch, she painted kohl around his eyes, then pushed him toward a floor-length mirror next to her dressing table. “What do you think?”

Obi-Wan sighed internally. Force give him strength, the whole getup looked ridiculous on him. “I think that this finery was meant for a queen, not a common slave such as myself.”

She scoffed and pinched his ear. “I will say what is meant for you, slave. It pleases me for you to wear it, and so you shall until I say otherwise.” She hissed to her chamber slave and she set to work on the final touches, straightening the sarong and ensuring all the pieces fell exactly right around his body. “If you can’t beat them…” said Miraj thoughtfully.

The door chime sounded, and the queen called out to enter. A servant announced, “Lars Quell, your majesty.”

Obi-Wan had only a few seconds to mentally prepare himself before the queen shooed him to stand behind her as she reclined on her chaise lounge. But at least he had more chance than Anakin, whose confident gait stuttered as soon as he caught sight of his old master. He recovered quickly, “When you invited me at this late hour, my queen, I had the impression we would be alone.”

The Queen gestured dismissively at Obi-Wan and her chamber slave, “We are alone, my dear Lars.” She bade him sit, and once they were each served wine she asked, “What do you think of my handiwork?”

Anakin could not look Obi-Wan in the eye. “Your highness has excellent taste.”

“They are all pieces from my personal wardrobe. Your slave is dressed as finely as the Queen of Zygerria,” she laughed. Anakin laughed along with her, drinking deeply from his cup.

Obi-Wan was sent to an antechamber for a tray of sweetmeats. Once he returned, he was made to kneel on the floor between them, positioned so that Anakin could not avoid looking at his master and the Queen had full view of his every micro-expression. She never seemed satisfied with his reactions, directing his attention to Obi-Wan again and again. Did he think the rubies suited him, or would emeralds better complement his complexion? What did he think of Obi-Wan’s figure, should he be fattened or starved? She insisted Anakin touch the skin of his shoulder to get his opinion of its texture and softness.

Obi-Wan could sense the younger man’s distress and tried to send comforting waves through the force. No response. He tried assurance that it would all be over soon, now that they were so close to learning the location of the colonists. Nothing. Finally, he tried sending a playful, joking nudge, hoping to goad him into relaxing. He received an angry shove back – it took all of Obi-Wan’s formidable control not to look at Anakin in surprise.

“Well,” Miraj smiled slyly, brushing Obi-Wan’s hair away from his forehead, “do you wish to take him to your chambers tonight?”

Obi-Wan had always been amazed by how quick and adaptive Anakin was. This time was no exception. He displayed barely a millisecond of discomposure before laughing, “Take him? But he was my gift to you, your highness.”

“Oh, I assure you, he is only on loan for tonight.”

“How could your majesty believe I would want this slave, when you sit across from me?” He leaned forward, as if eager to close the distance between them. “Superior in every way – your beauty, grace, power, and cunning – they have enchanted me since before I arrived, and now that I have met you my awe has increased tenfold.”

The Queen lowered her eyelids to accept Anakin’s desperate compliment, then said, “You flatter me. But on Zygerria we believe in following our desires to their natural end, it is our right as masters. I could not begrudge you slaking your baser urges, rather it is a mark of your virility. It is clear you desire my slave - take him, Lars, it would please me for you to enjoy him. I hope this gift will help to deepen our…” she smiled demurely, “friendship.”

“I couldn’t possibly –”

“I insist,” the Queen said. “You must, after I have gone to such lengths to make him appealing to you.”

Anakin had no choice but to acquiesce. The Queen continued to surprise Obi-Wan – he could not discern what game she was playing. All he could tell was that her object was Anakin.

They made their way to Anakin’s guest room in silence, the younger man a muted gray wall in the force. Obi-Wan surveyed the chamber once the door shut behind them – it was a richly decorated, airy jewel box, with a giant four-poster bed set opposite the large balcony. He raised his eyebrows at his friend, “Well, this is comfortable. You’ve certainly had the better view –”

Anakin, who had paused to stare at the closed door, turned toward his master, arms crossed. “Stop talking.”

Obi-Wan blinked.

Though he’d kept his mind closely shut for more than a week, Anakin now flooded their bond with his anger. “So. We have spent 12 days to get a sliver of a hope of some information on the location of the colonists. This slaver has made you into a collared pet while I flirt with her and stroke her ego like she hasn’t brutalized and degraded thousands of people. I was going along with it because you asked me to, because you said it was for the greater good. And now, finally, she has dressed you up as facsimile of herself and ordered me to fuck you.” Anakin stepped toward Obi-Wan and pressed his palms together in prayer. “Can we please go now, master?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help his exasperated sigh – it was a reflex now, whenever Anakin was especially insolent. But even Obi-Wan could admit when he was wrong, eventually. “I thought we would need more time to access the operations centre…”

Anakin threw up his hands. “Obi-Wan, kriff it all!” He sat on the bed and hung his head, his composure lost.

He continued, “But I acknowledge that we have gained all we can from subterfuge, and perhaps it is time to end this charade.” He knelt before Anakin, placing his hands on the younger man’s knees. When their eyes met, Anakin’s face quivered. His anger cracked open and misery and fear bled into the force, accompanied by – what was that? Obi-Wan blinked, recognizing the emotion as shame. All at once, Obi-Wan could see what he was blind to before. He’d thought this mission would help Anakin to exorcise his demons through freeing the slaves. He had assumed that by taking the part of the slave he was protecting Anakin from having to re-experience his enslavement, but he had not considered that seeing Obi-Wan enslaved would be almost as painful. And by giving himself to the queen, he’d made Anakin participate in his master’s debasement. “Oh, my friend,” he whispered softly. “I am so sorry. I’ve been a fool.”

Anakin hissed, “It’s too far. You’re lower than an animal to her. And it doesn’t even matter to you, you don’t care and you don’t understand.”

Obi-Wan closed warm palms around Anakin’s shoulders, regret drawing him closer, trying to soothe the wounds he’d re-opened. “I do care, I’m sorry.”

Anakin took a deep breath and wrapped his arms around his master, pressing their foreheads together as he’d done nights ago in the alcove. As Obi-Wan returned the embrace, the younger man shifted to tuck his face into his master’s neck and buried his hand in his auburn hair. Obi-Wan murmured, “Forgive me, old friend.”

Obi-Wan felt him nod, felt his mind melt against him in relief, strains of anger and hurt still lingering. It would be a long time before this was forgotten, but for now he sensed all the pieces of them were gently fitting back together as they usually did. Sometimes Obi-Wan thought of their bond as a woven fabric, their threads interlocking, intertwined, alternating. Obi-Wan. Anakin. Obi-Wan. Anakin. Obi-Wan…

Anakin pulled away and cleared his throat. He fixed his gaze on the gold necklace still laying heavily across his shoulders, the folds of the sarong flowing across his thighs like water. “She dressed you like a doll.”

Obi-Wan smiled mirthlessly. “I’m well aware of how silly I look.”

“It’s see-through.”

“Well, it’s all for your benefit, apparently.”

Anakin sneered, “You play nice with slavers, this is where it leads.”

Piqued, Obi-Wan replied testily, “Maybe it wouldn’t have led here if you hadn’t acted like an overprotective papa at his daughter’s debutante ball. She only thought you wanted me because you kept glaring at everyone who approached.”

“What, you mean like this?” Anakin glared. Though it was meant in jest, the look in his friend’s eyes made him pause. Obi-Wan had witnessed Anakin’s wrathful gaze before but never directed at himself. It had an intensity he could feel as a tremor in his chest. _As if he wanted them all to burn_ , the Queen had said.

“Yes,” said Obi-Wan quietly, “like that.”

Anakin looked away quickly, his shame once again leaking into the force around them. Obi-Wan tried to collect himself, pulling absent-mindedly at the heavy necklace still weighing on his chest. He felt another surge of Anakin’s anger before he commanded, “Stand up.” Obi-Wan, hoping to start mending the bruised bond between them, complied. Anakin plucked the ruby circlet from his head and threw it aside, then began to attack the clasp of the necklace. Soon the whole outfit lay in a heap, which Anakin then kicked across the room.

“Well,” said Obi-Wan, standing naked and cold in the middle of the room for the dozenth time on this mission, “do you consider me decontaminated?”

Anakin looked at him hard, then started scrubbing at his face with his sleeve to remove the kohl. He used the wash basin to wipe away the last of it, but when Obi-Wan examined himself in the mirror there were still grey smudges around his eyes. Anakin finally ruffled his hair and beard, as if those too needed to be cleansed. Obi-Wan slapped his hands away and gestured at his reflection, “Enough! Are you satisfied? Do you see what I look like now?” Hair mussed, makeup smudged, Obi-Wan looked like Anakin had done exactly as the Queen commanded.

“Oh,” said Anakin, blushing.

“There had better be some spare clothes around here somewhere.”

The tunic and pants Anakin found were slightly large on him, but it felt good to be fully dressed again, and in clothes he had chosen to wear. He rolled the cuffs of his sleeves up to leave his hands free. “If the Queen thinks we’re occupied, this might be the perfect time to get to the operations centre and then make a quick exit.”

“Ready when you are. I’ll signal Artoo and get Ahsoka to prep the ship.”

They exited via the window and made it to the operations centre in under 5 minutes, Artoo chirping excitedly at them as they arrived.

Unfortunately, Anakin’s recon of the operations centre had not included the security alarm.

With Artoo’s help, Anakin quickly sliced the system and had almost located the processing facility when Atai broke into the room with 10 guards armed with electro-whips. Obi-Wan, with his slave collar still in place, was subdued in moments, falling senseless to the steel floor. Anakin gritted his teeth in frustration – typical, he’d just gotten his master back and already he was down for the count. His anger driving him, he killed 2 of the guards, 3, 4, but more were coming. It took 5 of the whips to bring him down. 

Before he lost consciousness he could feel the threads of Obi-Wan's mind loosening from his, pulling away, and he reached out to pull him back, pull him down, but he was losing, it seemed he was always losing, and he grasped at nothing, his master gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan’s harem outfit was inspired by this fanart from Pinterest. Check it out if you want to see what it looked like before it got stomped by Anakin. I was not searching “Obi-Wan hot” I just came across it. <https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/407153622556324537/>
> 
> Constructive and/or nice comments are appreciated.


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